


Expectations

by AphroditeB00w



Series: Expectations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming Out, Draco is still an ass, Explicit Sexual Content, Harry and Draco, Language, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Sexual Identity, harry is still a clever little brit, harsh parents, learn to love, non-magic au, secret boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditeB00w/pseuds/AphroditeB00w
Summary: I wrote this a long time ago, and have tweaked it alot since then. I hope you like it. It's still one of the best things i've ever written, IMO.---------------Harry is the school golden boy, even though his roots are humble. He and Draco have been at odds since day one, rubbing each other in all the wrong ways.But avalanches are started by small mundane things....





	1. Chapter 1

**_ Chapter 1 _ **

The first time Harry Potter met Draco Malfoy, was when he was just 11 years old.

Harry walked quietly, eyes wide and drinking in the sights around him. He was at a large and busy train station alone; My Dursley hadn’t cared enough to stay and his aunt hadn’t stopped him from leaving both Harry  and his bags before driving off. He was about to board a train to his new school, which up until the week before on his birthday, he wasn’t aware he was going to. The plan had been to send him to a local public school. He hadn’t been looking forward to it, but at the time he had no other choice in the matter; it was cheap and that sold Vernon. But things had changed since.

He stood in a crisp new uniform, in red and grey and gold, carrying two bags. One for his school things, and a larger one containing his meagre possessions. Since his new school was also a boarding school, and he would be staying over the school holidays.

A large Scottish lawyer had appeared at his house on his birthday last week. He was jovial and friendly where his relatives were not, and explained in no uncertain terms that with Harry’s eleventh birthday his inheritance had come into play. Not only had his parents (of whom he had no recollection) left him a sizable sum of money, but before their death had pre-enlisted him in a rather exclusive school very far into the countryside. Vernon Dursley had never heard of it, and was none too pleased when he learned that he couldn’t touch Harry’s money unless Harry actually gave it to him.

And so here he stood, in front of a beautiful train about to head into the unknown. The lawyer, Reubes Hagrid, had gone beyond his mandate and helped Harry find his school supplies and showed him how he could withdraw money from the account set up in his name, since Harry had no clue and His aunt would never step in. He must have sensed that Vernon was a bad character, and likely couldn’t be trusted anywhere near the bank where Harry’s sudden fortune lay.

He saw many children there, of all ages, wearing the same uniform, and as the train whistled shrilly they all began to meander onto it, saying goodbye to relatives. He looked away from this, and stepped into the door closest to him.

Although he had never been on a train before, it did not seem too complicated, and he did not want to look like an idiot. He began to search for an empty carriage, but his bag was bulky and other students crowded him as they pushed to get by, all excitement and no manners. To avoid it all he tried to turn into the first one to his left. But it was occupied. A boy his own age sat there, looking out the window. He had white blonde hair that was long enough to brush back behind his ears, and very pale skin.  As he turned to Harry, he saw the boy had dark brown eyes, heavy lidded, which gave him an aloof expression.

“Hello,” he said, his voice wary, “I am Draco Malfoy. And you are…?”

Harry was startled, though unsure why, so he answered without thinking. “I, Harry. Harry Potter.”

Draco looked him appraisingly for a moment more then held out his hand. Harry appeared to have passed some sort of test. “Good to meet you.”

Harry felt vaguely annoyed, but before he could take his hand, more people filed into the cabin. Clearly they knew Draco as they began immediately to strike up conversation. Harry took the opportunity to slink out quietly. He didn’t see Draco’s eyes look for him as he disappeared.

 

** Chapter 2 **

The years passed, and the two boys following meetings were not as congenial. They were in two different school houses, and the conflict only began there. Harry made two close friends in his first year that grew closer as time went on. Ronald Weasley was a tall freckled ginger, and he and Harry bonded quickly over mutual laziness as well as easy camaraderie. Hermione Granger was a short, petit girl who was the cliché of every over-achieving, academically brilliant nerd, but she was kind and the easiest way to get along with her was to let her talk while you listened. He took to them quickly, never really have had friends before.

 Harry felt as if the school had been his home all along, it had just taken eleven years to get there. His first impression of Draco however only solidified. As Draco himself liked to make known, his father was a large contributor to the school and as such held several seats of importance in both management and parliament, including having an entire wing honoured with the Malfoy name. He enjoyed his supposed elite status and lorded it over anyone he pleased, enjoying the perks that came with it. Such as lighter detentions, less homework and longer hours off grounds for him and his friends. He had a score of sycophants vying for his attention, and it was clear that he welcomed it. Harry, in contrast, preferred the company of a few close, authentic friends, and was considered to be a gregarious, open person. He excelled at sports, particularly cricket. He did however become infamous for the many antics he and his got up to, which often involved breaking school rules and receiving an alarming amount of detentions, though never in such a way that would get him expelled.

The two did not encounter each other much in those first few years, other than the pleasure Draco took in taunting him. But Draco was an equal opportunity sadist, and treated anyone he considered below him with the same disdain and contempt, which was almost everyone. Harry simply tried his best to ignore it, and focussed on the areas of his life that brought him joy; his friends, his sport, his school.

But there came a day when their casual contempt of each other had to change, for better or worse. It was a day, early in their sixth year, when they both had detention for the same teacher. Harry had, as usual, simply not turned in homework, whereas Draco had obviously gone too far and annoyed their Professor a little too much. It wasn’t unheard of for Draco to get a detention now and then, but he always seemed unphased, as if the petty punishments of the school didn’t affect him. At 8pm that evening, they found themselves both waiting outside her office door. Draco slouched against the wall as Harry approached.

“Malfoy,” He said by way of greeting.

He didn’t respond, barely even acknowledged him standing there. As detentions went, this was already shaping up to be tedious.

Soon the professor arrived and assigned them to the boring tasks of sorting and labelling about twenty years of stock taking lists for the science classrooms. They were stacked in teetering grimy piles and bound with yellow twine, some in boxes which had been packed every which way, in a small dusty storeroom at the very end of the school.

“Get to it.” Said the Professor,” I’ll be coming back in two hours and I had better see progress, or we can simply carry on tomorrow.”

Harry groaned and dropped his bag. Both he and Malfoy began on the boxes on opposite sides of the storeroom. But it was a small, square room, the shelves wide, and such was the space that even while standing as far as they could from one another, Harry  struggled not to accidentally touch the other boy. Harry felt goosebumps appear on his arms, and rubbed his arms before grabbing another random box. Draco stayed silent. They had been in detentions together before a few times, but always with others, never just them two, and Harry expected insults. When they didn’t come he felt off-kilter. His silence was odd, but Harry shrugged to himself, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the other option was exchanging insults, he would take the silence.

An hour in, Harry felt coated in twenty plus years of grime and dust, and his eyes felt scratchy. He took his glasses off and cleaned them with the edge of his jumper, sighing deeply, then sneezing hugely. He wished he had a watch, so he could know how long it would be until he could breathe in fresh air again. He sniffed and looked in vain for a tissue that was not there, when suddenly a hand was offering a clean handkerchief.

He looked up. Draco’s heavy lidded eyes, watched his, and Harry fell still. For a moment that seemed longer than necessary neither spoke. Then Draco hemmed and shook the hanky, giving him an _are you an idiot_ look that was so familiar. Harry, still looking incredulous, took it and said “Thanks.” He blew his nose loudly in the quiet room and stuffed the hanky away in his back pocket. As he turned back to his sorting, he felt confused. But Draco said nothing more, and neither did him. And so it continued until the professor came back for them, and deemed their punishment had been served, and they went their separate ways. Harry never spoke of it to anyone, and it seemed, neither did Draco.


	2. Part 2

A week later, Harry felt uncharacteristically nervous. _It’s just a hanky, for cripe’s sake_ , he thought to himself. The clean, folded piece of cloth burned hot in his pocket. He knew he needed to give it back to Draco, but some instinct warned him he shouldn’t do it in front of others, let alone his usual menagerie of knuckle draggers. So he waited until the last lesson of the day, a class that his house shared with Draco’s, so that they would be leaving at roughly the same time. The final bell jangled in its old tin bowl, and the students rushed to pack their things. Harry dawdled behind. Draco was assigned to clean up duty this week and would be packing away the tools they had used, so he knew he could give him the handkerchief in private and leave in as little time as possible. As he had cricket practice directly after school, he needed to hurry anyway, but he felt that unaccountably edgy as he approached Draco from behind. He had taken off his jumper in the warm afternoon heat and his shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers. He looked neat. Unlike Harry , whose shirt, no matter how he tried always had an edge hanging out somewhere, his tie always too loose around his collar, his jumper slightly too big for him. These thing and his permanently untidy hair gave him a scruffy look he couldn’t shake, and he had given up trying years ago. He cleared his throat, and Draco turned, pausing in his work. He looked surprised and a little…afraid?

Harry pulled out the small cloth and held it out to him. “Here. It’s clean.” He said, and felt stupid.

Draco’s eyes flicked to the door and back to Harry, and he knew he was checking they were alone. His expression became suspicious.

“Don’t worry,” he said, with slight bitterness in his tone, “no one knows you lent it to me, and no one will.”

Draco looked at the handkerchief and back at him, then took it and said “Thank you.” Harry was unsure what exactly he was saying thank you for, the hanky or the fact that he would keep this dumb secret. It suddenly seemed ridiculous.

“Look, I don’t get it. You’re a real git most of the time. Then you do some small nice thing out of nowhere...” Harry suddenly said. He stopped, because Draco was staring at him, unspeaking. Harry felt stupid again. “I just don’t get it, that’s all.” He muttered and looked away. “Anyway thanks,” he said and turned away. Relieved to be ending this strange encounter.

As he reached the door, he thought he heard Draco start to say something and he stopped to look at him, but when he did Draco was packing away again. He left quickly.

 

 

** Chapter 3 **

It wasn’t terribly long after that that the two met again. Harry, once again pitifully behind on his homework, was sitting in the library. It was close to midnight and he was alone and trying extremely hard to read this one paragraph for the fourth time. He didn’t notice Draco until he pulled the chair across from him out and sat down.

Harry froze in the act of tapping of his textbook with his pen. Draco wasn’t taking out his books, he was simply sitting there, looking at the desk between them. Harry stared. He looked around, and they were alone; none of Malfoy’s usual groupies in sight. The usually well-put-together Draco was slightly dishevelled. His hair hung in his eyes and his tie was undone. Although, compared to Harry, he still looked neat.

“Hello?” Harry tried, unsure what was happening.

Draco looked at him then, dark brown eyes through white blond hair, and Harry felt an odd shiver in his chest. Then Draco drew a deep breath.

“It is expected of me.” He said, in his well-modulated voice. His accent told you he came from money and class. But until now Harry had never heard a word from his mouth that wasn’t laced with disdain, nastiness or boredom with your existence. Now he sounded….different. Normal.

“What is?” Harry replied, still confused.

Draco’s eyes became irritated. “Being a ‘Git’.” He answered.

The light dawned. He was talking about what Harry said to him in the class that day.

“Oh.” He answered stupidly.

Draco sighed dramatically and looked away, as if tired with this conversation. “When you carry a highly influential family name, and your father practically owns the school, there are expectations. There have always been…expectations.” He finished off quietly.

Harry was dumbstruck. What on earth was Draco doing, explaining himself to Harry? Why did he care? Yet, as strange as this situation was, Harry wasn’t in a hurry to end it. He felt the need to test the waters first.

 _Oh-kay_ he thought to himself.

“So you’re saying, you have to be a pompous prat because your dad wants you to be?” Harry asked bluntly.

Draco looked as if he had been slapped, then quickly went back to annoyed. “The pressures in a family like mine are beyond what you can understand, Potter.”

Harry knew he should feel insulted, but still in shock at the whole encounter, he saw that he had hit a nerve. He held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Ok ok, I’m not rich, I don’t get it.” He answered a light tone. “So are you saying you’re not actually a really unpleasant person who picks on everyone because he is the heir to the family fortune?”

Draco’s face became stormy and his eyes flashed. He grabbed his school bag, pushed the chair back so hard it almost fell and made to leave. But before Harry knew it, he dashed around the table and intercepted him.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” He started. But Draco tried to move around him. Harry put out his hand and pushed Draco hard enough in the chest that he stopped. He could feel his heart beating through his thin shirt and suddenly Harry was extremely aware of the warmth of his chest and where his hand was touching. Draco looked down and then at him, still angry.

“I, uh, “Harry stuttered. “Sorry, that was obviously not a good way to answer you…to be...uh.”

Draco breathed in and out once. “I come by it naturally, being that way. The way you see me.” He paused and Harry thought he had stopped. Then “But it’s not everything I am. Not all of it.”

Then Draco seemed to notice Harry’s hand on his chest. He said nothing, but slowly reached up and pushed it away, gently. Harry was surprised to feel how warm his hands were.

Then Draco walked out and away, leaving Harry with sweaty palms and a fast beating heart.

 

** Chapter 4 **

Whatever happened that night in the library, the ice had been broken. Over a period of months a slow, hesitant, secret friendship bloomed. If Harry found that he had catch up work to do, he directed himself to the library rather than the common room with his friends, on the off chance Draco would be there too. And it seemed that his unspoken thought was answered, because after a while, whenever he was in the library on those long nights, Draco was too. At first he sat away, at another table, quietly doing his own work or reading. Then he began to join Harry at his desk, and though he never spoke a word Harry would try to clear a space for him. Eventually he just assumed Draco would join him and left a space available. Harry was unable to stand the quiet though, and eventually started talking out loud to himself. Asking himself questions, making ridiculous statements, contemplating whether to have cereal or oats for breakfast. He found himself doing it just to see a small smile play on Draco’s lips, or the flash of annoyance on his face.  Eventually he managed to be annoying enough to get a rise out of the carefully pressed boy, when Draco told him to shut up because he had work to do, but the words had no venom.

 As the evenings passed there grew a strange but satisfying repartee between them. Not merely a cautious friendship, in which Draco would alternately berate Harry  for leaving his work for the last minute then help him by passing along his own work for him to copy, but also a subtle tension. Neither of them ever spoke of it, or gave any sign that their relationship existed beyond the boundaries of the wee dark hours in the most desolate corners of the school library. But even though Harry tried to chalk it up to the fact that their association had to remain secret, that after such a long rivalry the effort of changing the minds of everyone at the school was too much, he found himself looking forward more and more to these meetings, going there on nights when he had no homework to do at all.

“So you’re an only child, with overbearing parents, with pots of money you’re not allowed to spend unless it’s on parties and expensive clothes?” Harry said one night, teasing. The sat across from each other, Draco’s ankles folded neatly beneath the table, reading a volume of poetry they had an assignment on, while Harry threaded his hands behind his head and balanced the chair precariously on its back legs.

Draco smirked. “And you’re an orphan who wears clothes too large for him, eats like he’s stolen it, and speaking of money, you’re no slouch yourself.” He responded in kind.

“Except I don’t show it off.” Harry responded gesturing to Draco’s branded clothing, some of it tailored to him. Draco had in fact shared with him that more than half his clothes were tailored`, partly because his body was longer than average for his age, but mostly because his family could afford it.

“Nothing wrong with good taste and the effort to look like I haven’t _always_ just gotten out of bed...” He responded pointedly.

Harry laughed. “Touché, mate.” He looked up. “Hard to believe I didn’t know this stuff about you.”

“In spite of my approachable and charming demeanour, you mean.” Said Draco drily, turning the page of his book with a long finger. Harry’s eyes followed the movement unconsciously. He chuckled.

“True though, isn’t it?” he said. “Anyway, I’m glad I’m getting to know you better now. It’s a pity more people don’t know you, the real you.”

Draco looked up at him exasperated. “Harry, don’t be an idiot. I’m always myself.”

“Except with me you’re not a total git.”

Draco snapped his book shut, but Harry didn’t bat an eye. “Harry, don’t make me out to be better than I am. Yes, around you I am…“he paused and rubbed his neck. “You see a side of me no one else sees. It’s good to have a friend.” He smiled. “But that person in the halls, the nasty one, with entitled attitude that believes he is better than everyone, that’s me too. It’s who I’ve been raised to be.”

Harry paused. “Expectations.” He said.

Draco looked slightly abashed but retained his resolve. “Exactly.”

Harry was silent for a moment then shook his head, letting the chair thud down onto four legs again.

“Nah.”

Draco looked annoyed. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t buy it, Malfoy.”

The use of his family name only seemed to annoy him more. Harry’s grinned widened.

“You can pretend to be that asshole I see in the daytime. But I don’t believe you. This guy, the bloke that laughs and reads poetry and somehow finds time to help me with my truly never ending mountain of homework, that’s real.” He punctuated his words by tapping the desk with his index finger. “Not some picture perfect throne inheritor who walks all over people for fun.” Harry paused but Draco said nothing, “It’s like you said to me before, that’s not all you are. If that’s real at all.”

Draco just looked at him blankly for a moment, the smiled as he shook his head. “It’s good to have a friend, Harry.” He repeated the phrase, making it at once more significant.

Harry, feeling suddenly awkward, he leaned back on the chair again. After a moment he said “Same here.”

Draco knew some things about his home life. How he was an orphan taken in by a single surviving relative, his aunt. But he also knew that it was far from idyllic. His aunt was married to a degenerate American named Vernon Collins, and spent his days making both he and his Aunt miserable and afraid, drinking too much beer and watching endless television. When he found out that he couldn’t touch Harry’s money he had gone from being barely tolerant of his presence, to punishing and cruel. His aunt may have been kind once, but years of being under the influence of the man had turned her wretched and cold, and Harry  was left to survive on his own. Loneliness was no stranger to Harry.

He might have grown into a surly, angry young man if his parents had not enrolled him in the school when they had been alive, and no doubt in the hopes of carrying on a familial tradition, since they had met there. He had known nothing about them before he arrived there. But when he did, he found their names on old school prefect boards, ancient and tarnished trophies here and there in school display cabinets. He must also have been blessed with an enduringly buoyant spirit, because he found a way to set aside the scars inflicted on him both internally and externally from the Collins’, and was determined to be better, to rise above and away from them. Hence his efforts at the school.

No, Harry had not always been the Gregarious open character he was now, and in some ways it was a mask. But he was determined to make his life better, and Draco seemed not only to accept this but encourage him without words. And it made him feel light.

 

** Chapter 5 **

Harry realised more and more, that he and Draco had absolutely nothing in common with each other. They couldn’t be more different people. And yet, he felt more at ease in his company than anyone he knew. More than ease, he felt kinship. He knew that if any of his friends found out about his friendship with Draco, they would be shocked even scandalised, but as time went on he simply couldn’t see any reason why. His image of Draco had changed into something much more…different.

It was a startling realisation for him one night when he arrived at the library and clearly Draco had yet to come, that he had no homework with him. No books, school bag or any other reason to be there other than to meet his friend. It wasn’t totally unusual anymore, to do so, but suddenly the act felt different, charged with something else…Before he had time to investigate this feeling, Draco sat down across from him. Harry, now aware, saw that he too had brought nothing with him. Draco, too, had just come to see him.

His eyes took Draco in. Even though Harry was seventeen and Draco sixteen, Draco was taller and thinner and always looked like class. His hair was still cut long, no doubt regularly styled at a barber, and it was short enough to fit into school regulations but still swung over his eyes and dusted the top of his school collar. He sat down in his usual space across from Harry, his long form nonetheless looked natural in his fitted, high end clothing, his long legs at ease and ankles crossed. And his face was open, and happy it seemed, for no other reason than Harry was there too. His eyes looked sleepy even when he was wide awake and Harry, though having seen them a hundred times, felt like he was only really seeing them now, and felt dragged forward.

Draco’s face fell, and became worried. “Harry, is everything…?” he tailed off as he saw Harry staring at him.

Harry was caught in the headlights. He wasn’t moving a muscle. He had come there feeling content and excited to meet his friend, but now his heart began to beat very hard. His hands on his jeans became clammy and he felt as if he could feel every hair on his head. And he could not look away from Draco. Whatever had suddenly started here, was gaining momentum, dragging Harry with it.

 _What’s_ _happening…?_ Harry’s thoughts came fearfully. The moment lengthened and a sound that he couldn’t hear grew ever shriller until he thought his heart would break out of his chest.

Draco made a slight movement, as if he was going to touch Harry.

 “Harry ...” he started, but didn’t get a chance to finish. Harry shot out of his chair, which fell to the floor behind him.  Draco stood up to, still holding his frightened gaze. Harry began to back away, feeling utterly confused and frightened, eyes glued to his concerned friend. Where Draco was tall and lean, Harry was stockier and muscled from sports. Where Draco was pale from indoor past times, Harry was tanned from outdoor runs and exercise. Harry couldn’t stopped cataloguing their differences. Brown eyes, green eyes. Dark hair, blonde hair. Tall, short, soft spoken, loud….. He ran in circles in his mind.

“I have to go.” Harry muttered, eyes still locked with Draco’s, who was now looking fearful and…was that sadness he saw?

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment, but as Harry moved to get past him, Draco put out his hand. It was not as Harry had done that first day; roughly, but softly, as if afraid of what would happen when he did. Harry felt his hand shaking as it touched the buttons of his shirt. “Please, you don’t have to leave….”

Harry wrenched his eyes away, but found they were magnetically drawn back to Draco’s now fearful gaze. They were frozen in a moment, locked. Both too terrified to move in case something shattered.

Harry eyes drifted down from Draco’s eyes, to his mouth. Had he ever noticed before? He must have because it was as familiar as his roughly bitten fingernails.

 _I have to know._ The thought suddenly sounded loud in his mind, as if it had been spoken in his ear.

  _I have to know_. It echoed, but got louder and louder, then stopped.

Feeling like the world was holding its breath, as if the air itself had become water, he pulled himself slowly forward towards Draco’s statue-still form. The dusty library was still and quiet, but they were in an unnatural silence that only existed between them. He was no longer looking at Draco’s eyes, but was drawn magnetically to his mouth. He halted, hesitant, a breath away from his friend. Somewhere in the fog of his brain was the thought that Draco would be disgusted, wouldn’t want this. But Draco didn’t move away, and his breathe was the only sound. So Harry closed his eyes and closed the last infinite distance and felt his lips close featherlike on Draco’s. It was hesitant, and light, and perfect. Draco’s thin lips were soft and yielding, and Harry didn’t pull back, letting himself be totally immersed in the feeling of light spreading from his chest outwards. This was bliss, wasn’t it? This is what they spoke about. Perfection in a moment.

How long they stood there, it couldn’t be measured. It was timeless and infinite. But eventually Harry did pull away.

He looked down, too scared of the moment, to scared he would ruin the moment. Because nothing good could come after something so perfect and so secret. The silence was stunning. But as it dragged on, reality and Harry’s fear returned. Draco hadn’t wanted this. He had given in to a completely mad idea and Draco was horrified. Harry had ruined their friendship, and the sweet relationship they had enjoyed would be gone. Harry looked up at him then, and moved away, ashamed.

“I...I’m sorry, Draco.” He stuttered. He risked a look, feeling emotionally flayed. But Draco looked neither angry nor happy. He looked as Harry did, as if he had just experienced euphoria and now was steeped in fear of the aftermath.

Before he could say anymore, Draco spun on his heel and walked away, leaving Harry alone.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearts are foolish, you know?

** Chapter 6 **

It was a week before they saw each other again. A long torturous week. Harry tossed and turned at night, unable to stop seeing Draco in his mind’s eye, his look of fear as he walked away. He avoided him as much as he could during school hours and shut himself away in the evenings, burying himself in work, of which he always had plenty. He played his after school sports in a distracted way which always ended up with his team mates wondering the hell he was doing and he would leave frustrated and disappointed in himself. When he did sleep, he lived the same moment, over and over, the bliss of soft lips touching his with hesitancy and welcome, and would wake up gasping, or hot or covered in sweat. Harry sometimes found himself close to tears, without understanding why, and his friends wondered about his unpredictable mood. But no matter what, Harry could not drown the longing he felt.  Something had happened to him, some door had been opened and he was helpless in the flood of the aftermath. He was desperate for another chance to kiss him, but mentally beat himself for wanting such a mad thing.

So it was in a state of anger, sleeplessness and near madness that Harry finally had enough.

During the last class of the day, Harry walked past Draco’s desk where he still sat. And dropped a note.

 After his housemates had drifted sleepily to their dorms, he slipped out and made the familiar journey to the library. He hurried a little, then stopped, made to turn around, changed his mind, kept walking. When he got there, he paused at the entrance. Though librarian was not there at this time, the library was always unlocked, the school both understanding and encouraging the demanding workload of the students. Then he summoned his courage and walked through the library. He made as if he was looking at every table between the shelves, but ultimately his feet took him to the same bench they always used, right at the back south-facing corner. When he arrived, he saw Draco sitting there, looking as if he had been there for ages, relaxed and casual, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, while his face looked downwards into a book. He hadn’t noticed Harry yet, and Harry took the chance to watch him. It was as if he had never seen Draco before now, every feature familiar and known, but he couldn’t stop drinking it in. The longing in his chest burned hot again and he stepped forward without meaning to. Draco looked up. Harry felt his heart speed up again, as he sat down across from him, hands in pockets.

He still couldn’t look away.

Draco spoke first.

“I got your note.” He said quietly. He had put away the book.

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling like that note had been the dumbest thing ever written.

Draco spoke again. “You needn’t have written it, I’ve been coming here every night. Waiting for you.”

The note had told Draco to meet him. But now that he was here, Harry felt tongue tied.

Draco still hadn’t looked him in the eye. He seemed reserved and aloof, his usual outward demeanour. Harry knew he was regretting everything. That this was the end.

“Why did you finally decide to meet?” he asked quietly.

Harry’s voice spoke before his head could intervene. “I had to see you.”

Silence. Harry forged on.

“I can’t stop thinking about….I can’t sleep. My dreams…” he stuttered into silence. He felt so very stupid. He got up to go.

“I’m sorry I ruined things.” He said, his heart heavy and stomach like lead. But he felt a hand on his arm, holding him, stopping him. He looked to see that Draco had stood up as he had and had grabbed his hand.

Draco stared hard into Harry’s eyes. “You didn’t.” he said softly.

Harry felt dizzy. He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair, suddenly in anguish. The words seemed to pour out of him, to his friend.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t stop thinking about you, about that night. I don’t want to think about you like this! I’m not…!”  

_Gay_

He stopped and swore loudly. Draco remained silent. He risked a look in his direction and saw his friend looking downcast, hands in pockets.

“So, you regret it?” he asked softly. “Just tell me Harry, be honest with me. I deserve at least that.”

Harry stopped, partly from shock, partly from the need to stall his friend’s sadness. Did he regret it? Did he regret the kiss? And yet, Draco wasn’t pitying him, entertaining his insanity…. While he wrestled internally, Draco went on.

“I’ve been coming here every night, “he said again. “Waiting for you. I didn’t expect what happened, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t _hoped_. But hearts are foolish, you know?” he chuckled but it sounded hollow. He ran a hand through his hair and Harry noticed how unusually untidy Draco looked. His normally pristine clothes wrinkled, shadows under his eyes. “I dreamed about it too, you know. But I’ve been dreaming a lot longer than you have, I see.” He sighed and let go of Harry’s arm. He seemed resigned.

“I’m sorry Harry. I haven’t felt this way about anyone but you. But that doesn’t mean you have to return the feelings. I’ll see you.” he finished off very quietly and turned to go.

But this time Harry grabbed him. “No!” he said. Draco turned, surprise on his fine features. Dammit, how was it that Draco never seemed to put a foot wrong? He looked sad, but still cool and calm, while Harry felt as if he was in the middle of a storm. “No,” Harry repeated. He took a deep breath. “This whole week, I’ve been fighting, but all I can think about is this.”  This time Harry was not hesitant, but knew exactly where he was going. He kissed Draco firmly, selfishly and felt that amazing rush once again and their lip met. And this time Draco returned in kind, grabbing Harry’s neck with almost desperation as he returned this kiss. It was slow and hot and deep and perfection all over again. There was such a rightness to their intimacy that their bodies pushed against each other with the need to be closer. They lost themselves and it was enough until they came up for air.

Harry felt dizzy and happy and as if he could climb a mountain. Draco looks dishevelled and was breathing hard and Harry couldn’t stop himself from lunging at him once more.

 _I am a starving man, and he is the feast_ , he thought, though he didn’t know where it had come from.

This time Draco broke away, breathing heavily, but smiling. Harry returned the smile, for he felt the same. Had anyone ever felt this way? In this history of time?

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you, and of this.” He whispered as he leaned against the library desk away from him. Harry leaned against the bookshelf, facing the ceiling, trying to slow his heart beat.

“I-I have felt….for you, for a long time, Harry. But we were friends, and I knew you wouldn’t feel the same way…” he muttered, still breathing heavily, and Harry saw his composure crack for the first time.

Harry laughed in a crazy way. “Draco, how come you always seem to have a gaggle of girls surrounding you then?”

Draco grinned sheepishly. His thumb came up and brushed his mouth and Harry couldn’t look away.

 “Expectations.”

Harry understood. Draco could never really feel anything for another man. Not in his family. Expectations, hm.

“Anyway,” Draco retorted, “you are one to talk. Aren’t you always off after matches, snogging some girl?”

Harry suddenly felt shy. “Well, I meant it Draco, I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone, boy or girl.” This felt awkward to say. “I don’t even know what’s going on now.” He ended off, as usual, feeling awkward and stupid. He suddenly perceived that he hadn’t started feeling that way until that afternoon in detention. He glanced at Draco and saw him flinch.

“If you regret this…” Draco started softly, his voice sounded tight.

Harry stepped forward. “No, Draco.” He put a hand around his neck, and the motion felt strange but in tune with his desire to touch. “I don’t regret this. How could I _regret_ this? I just need to figure this out.” He whispered. He moved closer to Draco again. With his sitting and Harry standing, Harry was slightly taller for once.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He said, before he kissed him again.

 

** Chapter 7 **

The times that followed were a deliciously tense and thrilling.

They could never openly show any kind of interest in each other beyond the usual and expected contempt they had been fostering for years, and though stolen kisses in secret corners and late night library visits were wonderful, they had to be careful lest anyone get suspicious. Suddenly time seemed a valuable resource and never enough. Whereas before there always seemed time to be bored, Harry found himself resenting his practice matches in the afternoons, the extra homework he never seemed to get ahead on. He daydreamed in classes of clandestine moments between him and Draco that left his head reeling and his heart hammering and certain other areas of his body embarrassingly hot. Draco had a way of looking at him that made him think he was _growling_ , even though it was just a look.

He struggled vaguely with himself. Same sex relationships were not unknown at the school, and while they weren’t discouraged, they weren’t encouraged any more than any romantic relationship. But he had never for a moment considered himself homosexual. He had had sort of girlfriends, kissed girls before. But he wondered if it was a rather arbitrary definition. Yes, he liked to kiss girls, but he hadn’t realised before now how run of the mill it seemed. Compared to those heated moments with Draco, how had he ever thought he was having fun before? He saw how none of it had meant anything really. He knew what it was supposed to be.

Add to this that it was just so easy with Draco. If he had to compare it to his other brief sojourns into the world of romantic relations, he couldn’t think of one person with whom it wasn’t forced, awkward, strange, or boring. None of those descriptions matched what was going on with him and Draco. Draco was fun, dangerous, exciting, satisfying, and enjoyable and he always wanted more. He recalled a blissful afternoon, hidden in the clock tower. Harry’s head resting in Draco’s lap, while he stroked his hair in a distracted way and complained abouth his least favourite teachers. They didn’t have to try to fit, they just did.

And that was why at the end of a brief struggle within himself, he gave up on fighting it. It didn’t matter that Draco was a bloke. Draco was Draco, Harry was Harry, and what they had together….Harry’s mind got slippery.

Draco still taunted him in a lazy way whenever there was an audience to hear it. But his insults were laced with little inside jokes that they had shared, and Harry found it difficult to keep up the charade of enemy vs enemy, and had to content himself with simply ignoring him while smiling behind his hands.

And when no one was looking, the two might catch each other’s eye and Harry would be filled with a beast like desire to see Draco alone, as soon as possible. Draco must have noticed, because his pale face got the faintest blush and he would turn his Icelandic face away. Harry would chuckle.

They found other ways to be inconspicuous but touch each other. They might brush arms in a hallway. Harry would find small short lines of poetry on tiny pieces of paper, hidden in his books. Harry might brush Draco’s hand on is way out of class. And one time, while gathering outside the school for announcements, Draco unexpectedly stopped behind him and whispered so low that only he could hear, “I’ll see you later.” And all Harry’s hairs stood on end. It seemed a wonderful, delicious game, seeing who could drive the other crazier.

And when they finally got to be alone, the tension exploded, sometimes violently. Harry showed places to Draco where one might hide quite safely, if he was careful. And there they would surprise each other. At first, Draco had tried to keep his distance, probably not wanting to push the straight guy into something he wasn’t ready for. But Harry quickly made it clear that wasn’t as issue. In an unused bathroom on the upper floors where there where classes were held only on weekends, Draco had left a bruise on Harry’s neck that he struggled to conceal without a scarf. (Hermione had been sceptical, as it was still summer then.)  Once, behind an old dusty tapestry, where a small enclave sat empty, Harry  had pushed Draco hard against the wall and returned in kind, which resulted in Draco walking around school with a mysterious cut on his lower lip. Harry could only guess what story he had concocted to explain it, but felt smug anyway. He and Draco couldn’t openly flirt with each other, but Harry made his intentions clear to Draco at the very least. Later, when their gazes met briefly in class, Harry expected Draco to be angry at the obvious mark he had made, but he met Harry’s eyes lazily and smirked, and Harry’s stomach flipped inside out. This time, Harry was the one to blush.

In one particularly nice spot, during a long weekend in which neither went home, but so many other students had, in the far corner of the grounds there was a climbable tree. One afternoon, Harry climbed to the very top and slouched there comfortably. He stared down at Draco, who lay contentedly on the grass, as usual, reading. One long finger turned a page, and Harry’s eyes followed the movement hungrily. He looked on at the elegant lines of his body and soft brown of his eyes and felt breathless for a moment. Draco finally looked up from under those heavy lids and looked away again.

“What are you looking at?” he drawled.

Harry grinned lazily. “I was just wondering if you’ve always looked so beautiful and I’ve just noticed now, or if just since you’ve been kissing me.”

Draco went a shade of pink that stood out plainly on his pale skin, but he didn’t look up.

“So which do you think?” Harry asked again, still sitting on the low branch of the tree. He enjoyed seeing Draco blush. Correction, he enjoyed causing it.

“I don’t know how you expect me to answer that question.” Draco answered curtly.

Harry grinned wider, and slipped lithely off the branch and dropped to the ground. He started closing the distance between them, slowly.

“Just say the first thing that comes to mind.”

Draco finally seemed to think of an answer. He closed the book.  Harry knew Draco refused to be on the losing end of any argument for long. He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I do enjoy kissing you.” he said matter-of-factly.

“Is that so?” said Harry, dropping to his knees and positioning his body above Draco’s, forcing him to move down to his elbows on the grass.

“Y-yes.” Draco breathed.

“Prove it,” sneered Harry, just above him now. So Draco, grabbed his neck and forced a kiss on him that was hungry and warm, and Harry fell into it without reserve. Everything about Draco was becoming addictive. His soft hair, his voice, the look in his eyes that was equal parts trepidation and hunger. It seemed they took turns being in the lead, and Harry enjoyed hat too. As Draco turned him on his back and positioned his long frame against his, his body went into overdrive. His relished every increasingly ragged breath, Draco’s long fingers trailing along his chest…and they both began again the pattern of losing themselves in each other and in the heat they generated.

Things had been getting hotter between them, and it was getting more and more difficult to stop. More difficult to find reasons to stop. They urged each other on, speaking more loudly with actions and hormones than they could with words. Not for the first time, Harry’s hands pulled at the shirt tucked into Draco’s jeans. Draco arched his body to oblige, pushing parts of him closer to parts of Harry. Harry groaned audibly, and slid his hands under Draco’s shirt, to feel the leanness of him. Draco may have been skinny but he wasn’t unattractive. His muscles were ropey and tight, his stomach flat and smooth. Harry’s hands explored at leisure and eventually he just took his shirt off entirely, seeking to be closer. His hands began an inevitable drift downwards but before they could get far, Draco stopped him.

Harry pulled away, feeling foggy with lust, and breathing heavily.

“Harry …” Draco said.

“You’re right, sorry. We should stop.” Harry said quickly, struggling to get his mind out of the gutter. What was he thinking anyway? He may have been around but he was still a virgin….and he had no idea how far Draco had gone, though he could guess…

He found hard to think clearly with Draco topless. Draco was unashamed, he stood proudly. Harry had been shirtless with him before, but this was the first time it was the other way round. He traced the lines of his collar bone with his index finger, and traced the taught line of his pectoral. He realised he truly thought Draco was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and only felt a small embarrassment at the thought. He grinned to himself.

“Like what you see?” said Draco, kneeling a small distance away from him, also catching breath.

Harry looked up from his reverie, surprised. “What?”

Draco smirked. “I said, do you like what you see? Or are you still wrestling with the big ‘ _Am I gay or what?_ ’ question?” his voice was nasty and spiteful.

“What the fuck Draco?” he replied, feeling like Draco had just hit him with a plank.

Draco turned away, angry, his long hair swinging in front of his eyes, so Harry couldn’t see them. He turned away and sat with his legs folded. After a small space of silence he said,

“Did you mean what you said? Just now?” he drew in a deep breath, as if what he had to say next was difficult. “Do you find me attractive?” the nasty tone vanished just as quickly as it had come, and now he sounded small. Draco never sounded small.

Harry sat stunned, all lusty thoughts gone. He tried to understand what was happening. He slowly scooted closer, and closing Draco’s body from behind, his legs on either side of him, and put his arms around his chest.

“Yes.” Harry said. Draco’s body was tense. Harry repeated himself. “Yes, Draco.” And he held him tighter.

“The big question, as you put it, doesn’t matter does it?” Harry said slowly. As he spoke, Draco didn’t move. “All that matters is you and me, in this moment, when we are together or not, whether I’m touching you or kissing you or not.” He paused, unsure what to say next. How to explain?

But Draco spoke. “I’ve known, for a long time. Since I was very young. Nothing catalytic happened, I just knew I didn’t like girls the way other boys did. But I also knew that there was no way I could ever tell my family. But I’ve known. I could never act on it, there is too much at stake. Can you imagine? My father would kill me, if he ever even looked at me again.” He sighed. “The point is, I’ve known for a while. There is no big question for me.” He paused again and when he next spoke it sounded pained. “I knew how I felt about you too. Ever since I gave you my handkerchief. And then you gave it back I was so afraid you would use it against me. But you didn’t. And I wanted to become your friend, and again you weren’t…you didn’t….” he stopped, and Harry tightened his arms. “It was so good to have a friend Harry, the last thing I ever wanted to do was to tell you what was going on in my head, what I wanted. Fuck, why this is so difficult!” Draco pulled away so fast Harry almost didn’t have time enough to let him go. He began to pace, his long legs moving over the grass and back again. Harry stayed seated. His friend, his lover, was in pain, and he didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t just go back Harry. Not like you. You can wake up and decide this isn’t what you want, that you can go back to your old life. I can’t! If you change your mind, about me…” he crouched low to the ground, hands in his hair, defeated. “I’ve never done this, with anybody. You may think I know what I’m doing here, but I don’t. I’m no more experienced than you. I’ve never acted on my desires, I’ve never felt this way about another human being. I just, don’t think I can…go back….”

Harry felt a pain at the thought. Not just that Draco was resentful and worried he would leave, but at the very thought that he would go back to the way things were before.  He realised with sudden clarity the heart of Draco’s worry; while Harry had been enjoying the clandestine nature of their affair, it wasn’t fun for Draco. It was a risk. Every time they met, every time they snuck around, the risk was there. Harry had been relishing the adrenaline rush that came from breaking the rules to meet his lover, but for Draco…he wasn’t the type to mess around and do things he knew he shouldn’t do just for fun. The fear was with him every moment.

And yet he still, did it. For him. Even though every moment could be not only their last, but cause catastrophic changes in his life.

Harry felt like an idiot for not understanding sooner. But without Draco in his life, without stolen glances under heavy eyes, without his clever little poems, or his tender moments behind bookshelves…. Just the thought caused his heart to clutch and grow smaller.

“No.” he said forcefully. He didn’t know to whom he said it. But Draco looked up at him, eyes red and fearful. Harry steeled himself.

“Look Draco, I can’t say I know where this is going, or how any of this makes sense. Ugh.” Harry rubbed his face. “But I don’t want to leave, or go, if that’s what you’re worried about. This isn’t some fling for me.”

Draco was simply kneeling in the grass now, head hanging. Harry saw a small tear drop from the end of his nose. Draco never bared himself this way, and it made Harry nervous and ashamed. He had caused it. He got up and walked over, and lifting Draco’s face so he could see he was telling the absolute truth.

“I did mean it. I think you’re beautiful. Or handsome or whatever.” Harry said, willing him to believe him. “And there is no one else on this planet who has ever made me feel like you do, who can make me lose my mind the way you do. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what were called. It’s just you and me. I don’t care about anything else.”

Draco remained silent, but Harry saw a second tear roll from his eye and down the side of his cheek. The perfect, infallible Draco Malfoy was as broken as he would ever be, baring his soul for Harry to see. He suspected that Draco had as much control over his feelings as Harry did, though he had never said anything to reveal that before now. Harry wished he could make him see the truth of his words. He only understood now what he meant. Draco had grown up in a world where he could never be who he truly was, so he had cultivated a persona, a strong outward self that put emotions and selfish desire second. He had built his walls so well, and now…well how do you go from being an emotional recluse to feeling raw every day? And what if the person you were revealing yourself too wasn’t sure? What if any moment they might leave?

Fuck, this shit was complicated. “I am not going anywhere without you.” Harry said, without a trace of doubt.

Draco closed his eyes and his hands gripped Harry’s arms so hard it hurt. But Harry welcomed it. He didn’t know where this was going, but it no longer could be without Draco.

Harry sighed, loud and long, trying to expel the tension.

“Hardly a shocker though, is it?” he said half-jokingly. “Look at you, women falling over you themselves just to kiss your expensive, well shined shoes...”

Draco looked up, surprised at the turn of conversation. “What?”

Harry sat back on the grass, feeling slightly embarrassed. “You know. Look at you. Scandinavian blood in there for sure. You’re gorgeous. Said so a second ago.” He laughed half-heartedly and gestured to himself, looking away. “I mean there’s you, and there just me…”

Draco’s face finally lost its kicked puppy look. Instead he looked amused. “Just you.”

Harry squirmed, feeling stupid for turning the conversation this way. “Yeah, you know. I’m just, well ordinary. Nothing special.” The silence stretched out and Harry couldn’t stand it. He stood up. “Anyway,-“

“Harry,” Draco said, his voice clearly amused. “You’re being an idiot, as usual.”

Harry simply stood there awkwardly, rubbing his neck like it was stiff. “Um…”

Then Draco stepped close to him and said in that low voice that gave Harry shivers. “I’ve never once forgotten your face. Not since that very first day on the train.” He ran his hand over Harry’s arm and held his fingertips lightly, and the touch shouldn’t have been sensual, but it was. “Trust me, Harry, there is no competition.”

Harry grinned like an idiot. He didn’t realise how much it mattered that Draco found him attractive.  Then he did something he had never done before, and laced their fingers together. He gazed at the combination. Draco’s fingers, long and lithe, the kind that play piano and write sonnets. His, calloused and rough, hang nails. He held tight anyway.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first part of this series.
> 
> If you liked it, there are two sister fics in this series :) One for Draco's POV, and one which is the rest of the story.

_I’ll see you tonight_.

That’s what Harry’s note had said. Unsigned and untitled, in case it got found by someone who shouldn’t be finding such things. The way they had been signing things for months. But he knew Draco would know.

When he met him at the library door he instead pulled him away in another direction. Draco’s questioning look was silenced when Harry threw him a cat-like grin, and he followed in silence. It was another long weekend, and once again there were very few other students around. He didn’t have to try very hard to stay hidden, and soon they had come to the entrance way to his house dorm rooms. Draco eyes went wide, and suddenly Draco acted like someone could catch them any second but he didn’t say anything until Harry had them safe inside his room with the door locked. Then he grew angry.

“What are you thinking, Potter?” he snapped, but not too loudly.

Harry rolled his eyes and sat at his desk, completely at ease.

“I was thinking,” He said calmly and clearly, “that you would like to see my room.”

Draco was still pissed, but Harry could see he was also intrigued. He had made a lazy attempt at cleaning, but the place still bore the marks of shabbiness and general messiness. He had never seen it, but he imagined Draco’s room to be immaculately clean, everything in its place, and for some reason, a hot cup of tea on the desk. As Draco looked around, he suddenly doubted his spur-of-the-moment decision to bring him here. He didn’t even have a cup of tea.

He stayed quiet as Draco surveyed the room.

“What if someone comes here?” he asked, picking up a textbook on the side table.

“Highly unlikely, as everyone other than the 7th years have gone home for the weekend, and they don’t come out of their rooms, which are three dorms away. It’s just us. Maybe don’t touch that…” he said as Draco tried picking up a week old tin of condensed milk from the table.

“Sticky.” Was all he said, still looking around, exploring his room?

Harry swallowed his sudden nervousness. He moved bravely behind Draco, where he was gazing out the window. It was quite chilly outside, so it was closed and the heater was on. Harry had already taken off his jumper.

“Like the view?” he asked as if it didn’t matter. It wasn’t too spectacular, but he was waiting for when Draco would realise.

It took a moment, then;

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“Is your window directly across from my house dorms?”

Harry grinned, “Yeah.”

 Draco looked at him, amusement lighting his dour face. “Don’t suppose you know…?”

Harry stepped next to him to indicate. “One floor up from mine, three windows to the left.” Draco looked where he pointed and saw his room, the windows were shut and curtains drawn. He gave a small chuckle. “How long have you known?”

Harry rubbed his neck, and turned away to sit on the bed. “Ah well, a few months ago, I was looking and uh…you were there in the window. I think you were making tea.”

Draco still looked out the window. “You were watching me?” he asked simply.

Harry debated lying, then gave up. “Um, yeah. It hadn’t occurred to me before….”

Draco came to sit beside him.

“You were looking for me.” He said.

Harry looked at him. “Yeah.”

And there were one of those silences they fell into together, a space without sound but many, many words. Harry decided he had waited long enough and pulled Draco’s face towards his, grabbing his expensive shirt, but Draco met him half way. And there was something else in the kiss this time. An awareness of each other, a knowing.

Each touch was soft and tender, and soon Harry was positioned over Draco who lay down on his bed without hesitation, making Harry follow his mouth down. Soon the kisses turned hungry and hot, lasting longer. Harry followed his body’s lead and pushed against Draco in a way that felt amazing, and he didn’t mind that he could feel Draco’s excitement too, it only urged him on. Soon Harry’s hands had found Draco’s shirt edge, and he smoothly pulled it over his head, Draco obligingly lifting his arms so that it would go faster.

Instantly Draco’s mouth found his again. Harry pushed against him harder this time, and Draco groaned, burying his hands in his hair, arching towards him. Soon they were both lost in the fog, and Harry found himself daring to go further this time. His trembling fingers found the button of Draco’s jeans, and for a moment Harry thought Draco might stop him when he felt his hand bump against his, but Draco had clearly had the same idea because his own hands fumbled at Harry’s fly, and soon they had stripped each other. Harry found himself floundering, struggling to maintain control. Adrenaline and lust made his hands shake. He pulled back for a moment, breathing hard and took in the sight before him. Draco was like something ethereal, his skin was pure and unblemished. His trembling hands touched his body delicately as if he might break, and when his eyes found Draco’s again he saw there the mirror of his own. Lust mingled with the fear of the unknown. He realised then, that neither of them had been further than this point.

“Draco…”he whispered. Trying with all he could to keep himself from falling into his lover once more. “Are you sure…?”

Draco was silent. And then he simply pushed himself up on his elbows and touched Harry’s face. Harry leaned into the touch and he was kissing Draco again, pushing his body against his as close it is could go. Draco made no sound, but to breathe in Harry’s ear, and Harry let himself give up his control. He shuddered, held Draco tighter almost unaware of his left hand crushing Draco’s hip and felt as if the world had shattered around them. He felt a similar release in his lover, as Draco’s body shivered with tension then melt.

They lay still for some time. Naked, without a blanket but sweating. Harry’s mind was still in a million pieces. He felt as if he might cry, or shout, or dissolve, so he kept silent and waited for the world to make sense again. Slowly he became aware of Draco’s breath, that he was saying something so softly it was as if he didn’t want Harry to hear it.

“I love you, Harry Potter….”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

** Chapter 9 **

Harry couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. When Roland and Hermione looked quizzical he just said he felt good about the upcoming cricket match. They shared a disbelieving look but he didn’t care. He kept reliving his last weekend in his mind. It had been a good weekend…

It was this feeling of euphoria that likely led to the next unfortunate series of events.

Harry, lost in thought most of the day, did end up having a good day in spite of his distracted behaviour. He got good marks in his classes, teachers praised him, and he had an excellent practice with his team. His spirits were soaring as he came around the curve in the road that led back to the dorms from the cricket pitch, carrying his kit bag. But too late he saw who was standing there.

Draco stood there with a collection of his most well-known sycophants, five of them. They had clearly not expected him as they barely noticed him as he rounded the corner. And what Harry saw next dropped his heart into his shoes.

Draco was kissing a girl.

Harry stopped dead. Draco had his arm slouched over her shoulder, his head bent down to more fully have access to her mouth. And she for her part, was very enthusiastically kissing him back.

Harry wanted to vomit.

It was then that his gang noticed him. They laughed at his shocked expression, and began their usual jeering. Attention caught, Draco looked up and saw him at last.

Harry wished for all the world, that he could move, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his legs made of lead. He stared. And the longer he stared, the more they laughed. How hysterical was this? Potter couldn’t stop staring at Draco snogging Matilde? Did it turn him on or something?

Eventually though, his goons realised Draco wasn’t joining in. they looked at him quizzically, their laughter dying on their lips. Draco had not said a thing. Then he spoke.

“Don’t waste your time. I don’t think Potter speaks our language. You would have to dumb it down quite a bit before he understood anything.”

Harry felt struck. Then Draco laughed, and the sound was cruel. “See? He can barely manage to speak his own language, let alone understand his betters.” He sneered.

Harry felt the world grow a little greyer and colder. His legs walked, finally, but he felt numb.

 

 **Chapter 10**.

 

Harry went through many emotions, which he tried very hard to keep to himself. Betrayal. Hot, red, boiling anger. Embarrassment, utter heart ache.

 _What did you expect Potter_? He thought to himself. _You knew this was the deal. You always knew_.

But he couldn’t stop the hurt, which morphed into rage. He had given up so much, he had made a complete fool of himself. Had Draco told his friends? _Potter has a crush on me, did you know_? He burned with shame and embarrassment, and he used it to mask his heart break.

Draco, for his part tried to regain his attention, but Harry couldn’t stomach it. Every time he replayed that awful scene in his mind, he felt ill. Even his teachers noticed, going so far as to suggest a visit to the school nurse, which he ignored. He also ignored Draco’s looks, avoided his touch, and steadfastly shook out any hidden notes from his textbooks into the bin. He completely avoided the library, even going so far as to walk to long way around to his classes rather than pass by it at the centre of the school buildings. But Draco was slyer than he gave him credit for.

After a week of hot silence, it was the last class of the day again, the one he shared with Draco’s house. Since he had been sitting as far away from him as he could, he barely saw him unless he had to. Roland found it odd that he suddenly wanted to be seated at the back of the class, but took it as a chance to kip. Harry for his part, doodled in his book. Barely paying attention.

“Who threw that?” Professor McKenzie’s voice suddenly shrieked. Although he was a man, he was small and sounded a bit like a mouse. He was currently untangling a paper airplane from his glasses.

“It was me, sir.” Said Draco’s drawl, sounding as if sending paper airplanes was very boring, but nevertheless amusing enough. His groupies sniggered.

Flitwick’s eyes flashed. “Do you intend to explain yourself, Mr Malfoy?” he demanded, clutching the offending paper.

Draco shrugged and his mates chuckled. “Was dared to, sir.” He answered.

“By whom?”

And Draco pointed his pen right at Harry, but smirked to his friends. “Potter, sir.”

Flitwick’s eyes looked at him, in surprise. “Harry? Did you dare Mr Malfoy…?” he began.

“I did not, sir.” Harry answered immediately. He was furious. What the fuck?

Draco piped up again, a sneer on his lips. “Sir, you’re holding the proof.”

Flitwick unfolded the airplane and read out loud, “Dare you to throw this right at his head.”

Harry almost exploded. Instead he clutched his pen so hard it hurt.

McKenzie seemed to think this was proof enough. “Very well. Potter, Malfoy, both of you get detention tonight. Sorting backlogs.”

 

** Chapter 11 **

****

Harry marched furiously to the storeroom where he and Draco had first done joint detention. He assured Flitwick he knew where to go and what to do, and didn’t care that he seemed to regret his decision to give him detention as well. He got there early and immediately started folding and packing and sorting, although he was so angry, he didn’t really concentrate on what he was doing. Such was his noise that he didn’t hear Draco arrive, and only looked up when Draco said his name.

Harry looked over, his contempt so obvious on his face that Draco flinched. “Oh. It’s you.”

Draco walked in cautiously, but didn’t touch the dusty files. He stood as close to Harry as he dared.

“Harry.”

Harry ignored him, and furiously shoved a folder into a box.

“Harry, please.” He said again louder.

Harry stopped. But he didn’t turn around.

“I was an idiot you know? I thought…. I don’t even know what I thought.” He said, and the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “I’m such a fool.”

After weeks of being so full of words he felt like he was bursting, he couldn’t find anything more to say.

Draco seemed carved in stone, but he couldn’t bring himself to look higher than his hands, which hung limply at his waist.

“Harry, please. Don’t say those things…” he started.

“Why not? It’s all true.” He said sharply. “We were never going to go anywhere. We were never going to hold hands, go on holidays, and meet the family…” Harry laughed aloud at the incongruity of it. All this time, it had been staring him in the face. This was never going anywhere, and Draco had known it all along. Suddenly all the fight went out of him. “I didn’t even know I wanted those things. But it turns out I did, I wanted it all, I wanted you, I wanted us… “He whispered. He stopped himself before going any further, before he told Draco how in spite of the hurt, he still longed for him desperately.

“Harry, _look_ at me.” Draco begged.

But Harry couldn’t. If he did, the damn would break. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Up until now he hadn’t really seen how much hope he had put into what they had, that somehow it would all work out, be ok. But it never would. It never had a chance.

“You know it’s true.” He said simply.

Draco was silent. Harry forced himself to look at him now. It could be the last time. Draco’s face was raw, and open as he had ever seen it. Silent tears fell from his eyes, his mouth tight shut, his eyes begged Harry. But Harry had to be stronger. He knew it was selfish, but he had to save himself. He stepped close and kissed him, and knew it was the last kiss they would share.

“See you, Draco.” He said, and left.

 

 

** Chapter 12 **

****

Christmas holidays had arrived and Harry was glad that almost everyone went home for the holidays. His friend Roland’s family as usual had invited him to come and stay with them over the holiday break but Harry felt he couldn’t stomach company. So, citing homework as an excuse, he wrapped himself in isolation. Gratefully, he saw that Draco too had gone home to his family, and Harry could find a small measure of peace in that. It wasn’t a terribly long holiday, but three weeks of near solitude was what he needed now. His room felt empty and cold, and he kept the curtains closed.

He hadn’t spoken to Draco again. And it seemed to him that Draco had taken his farewell to heart. Outwardly, he seemed his usual droll self. That girl Pansy had taken to hanging around more often, but he hadn’t seen him even touch her again. He tried not to think about it too much. He needed to move on. It didn’t matter what Draco did. He had a half-hearted idea to find some girl to keep him company, but he could barely find the energy to think it, let alone do it.

His loneliness swallowed him whole. Left on his own, he had no distractions to come between him and his sadness. The school building, seemed full of places to avoid, all places they had shared memories. He had lost a lover, he had lost a friend. Harry tried to block out the incessant memories that came to him all the time, or sweet moments, lingering kisses and blissful content. But his heart not only mourned his lover, but the easy and effortless relationship they had had together. He tried, in vain, to forget and move on.  He spent hours in the freezing snow covered practice nets, pitching cricket balls to no one. There were times Harry felt such a boiling hot anger. Before Draco, he hadn’t known there was anything to miss, now thee whole world was full of empty spaces. In the night times, his dream relived every good moment, and he woke with tears on his pillow.

But then on Christmas day came a message in his inbox.

Harry didn’t get a lot of mail. Roland, Hermione, once and ex-girlfriend, and some spam worked its way in there. But he mostly used his internet for work only. But today, for lack of anything better to do, he checked his mail, and found an email addressed to him.

And it was from Draco Malfoy.

Harry debated whether he should open it. But his curiosity and new tendency for self-torture won out in the end.

It read;

_Dear Harry,_

_I know we left each other in the worst way. I wanted to explain then, but the words deserted me._

_I am ashamed of myself. I wish more than anything that this was not our lot, that we were different people, that I had never met you on that train. I wish you had never walked around that corner and seen me kissing Pansy._

_But I beg you to remember: Expectations. I did as I have always done, what I have to do to maintain appearances. But it has never hurt me more to do it._

_I know this will likely not ease the hurt I have caused you, nor mend the break, but I am begging you to forgive me. My life is so much less without you in it. Please, forgive me and let us be us again._

_Hearts are foolish, and we cannot choose the ones we love._

_As ever your fool,_

_Draco_

Harry reread the message twice more before closing his mail. He sat back, arms folded.

He knew the risk Draco had taken writing to him, using both their names. If someone found out….

Well, Harry asked himself, what if they did. In his mind, he hated the hiding and the stupidity it caused. But for Draco it was not so simple. He couldn’t simply come out and declare himself for all too see….

But he had made a small declaration, and the risk was as great for him. And he had done it for Harry.

 _Ugh_ , said Harry to himself, _why couldn’t you find a nice simple girl and be done? Well, then you wouldn’t be you, would you?_

 

Chapter 13

It was the first day back from holidays. Harry knew he was back. But he waited. He churned through many thoughts and questions, but ultimately ended in the same place. Which was to wait until the end of day, where he could slip Draco a note.

That evening he waited some more, in the library. His foot beat an uneven, nervous tattoo on the carpet. He began to wonder if Draco would come at all…

But then there he was, standing just as nervously in the shelves, looking wary to approach. Harry stood up. They were both dressed in warm coats and scarves, but Harry thought Draco looked paler than usual.

He decided to break the ice. “Um, good holiday?”

Draco blinked slowly, and came closer. “No, not really.” He answered.

“Wasn’t too great for me either.”

Silence. They stood facing each other, both obviously nervous.

“Look, I got your letter.” Harry said, and he saw Draco blanche. He ploughed on. “I’m not sure where to go from here though. I mean…” he tapered off. What had he been going to say?

Draco finally sat down, and Harry followed his lead.

“Harry, my mother found the letter.” He said.

Harry’s heart stuttered.

“She found…how? How could she find it?”

Draco closed his eyes. “I was an idiot and printed it out. I thought of sending you old fashioned mail, in case the email hadn’t gone through… anyway, it was on my desk and she read it Harry.”

 _Oh shit._ Thought Harry. But Draco hadn’t finished.

“She wasn’t surprised, Harry. She wasn’t upset. She told me she would help keep it a secret from my father.” He said in a low voice.

Again Harry had no words. The one colossal fear Draco had had come to life, and instead of his life crashing down around his ears…it didn’t.

“She told me, that if I had really felt this way about someone, I shouldn’t have to let them go.” Draco continued. “I ended up telling her all about you. About us.”

Harry sat in stone silence. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. But he felt the reluctant stirring of hope inside him.

“So if your sentiments are what they were before Christmas, I would appreciate it if you told me now.” Draco said, and he couldn’t hide the quaver in his voice. “I can’t promise you hand holding, or family dinners, but I can at least promise something. I can promise not to hurt you the way I did again.” Draco still hadn’t looked at him.

Wordlessly, Harry got up and walked around the table to sit beside him. He found Draco’s hand inside his jacket, and looked at him.

“I’m really glad you’re back.” He said, grinning.

Draco returned the smile, smiling with relief and happiness. “As am I.”


End file.
